


Sharp Dressed Man

by sammichgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: D/s, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, M/M, Punishment, Sam is 13, Spanking, Suit Kink, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammichgirl/pseuds/sammichgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam gets in trouble at school.  Dean arrives, playing as John.  Dean's wearing a suit, Sam has finds it hot, ensuing daddy issues and punishment that turns heated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharp Dressed Man

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Apparently I have nothing to do with the show or WB/CW beyond my imagination. Oh, to dream.

Dean was finishing his fitting at the tailor’s when he got the call from the school.  Normally, they wouldn’t spend so much money on clothes, but Dean had to admit, he looked damn good.  More so than usual, he thought to himself.  Dad had decided Dean was old enough and _looked_ old enough, to carry off a role as a junior FBI man.  While John was out researching and putting together their credentials for the next hunt, Dean was getting an appropriate looking wardrobe. Good quality will last, John had reasoned. 

“Mr. Winchester?” questioned the voice on the other end of the line.  Dean’s radar kicked in immediately.  “This is Mrs. Prescott, from Thalia Elementary, calling regarding Samuel Winchester.”

“What’s wrong with Sammy?  Is he hurt?  Is he ok?  What’s happened?” Dean frantically started questioning the woman, stepping down quickly from the fitting stoop and grabbing the suit jacket.  He turned at the door on his way out, “I’ll be back to finish this later,” he said to the startled man who had just removed the last pins from the hems done in the pants. 

“Mr. Winchester, please calm down.  Samuel is just fine, he’s not hurt or injured.  He’s got…well, we seem to have a bit of a discipline problem here,” Mrs. Prescott replied.  Dean was breathing erratically, and once assured Sam was not in any immediate life threatening danger, he reduced speed in the Impala to a more normal, and less likely to get pulled over pace.  “Discipline problem?”   Dean could not even imagine how Sam could be a discipline problem.  He was every teacher’s dream student.  Hell, he even helped out in the principal’s office during his study hall.  _Dork_.

“Yes, he was found to have a weapon on him.  You know, we should expel him outright, but he’s such a good boy that we decided to call you first to clear this up without a lot of fuss.”   Personally, Mrs. Prescott thought Sam walked on water and she had convinced the principal to let her call his father first.  Really, honor-roll Sam, with the adorable dimpled grin and shyness that came with growth spurts and gangly limbs.  Someone obviously had it in for the dear boy and had planted that knife.  Probably that bad boy that always seemed to be in some kind of trouble, Jake Marshall.  What a bully. 

“I see.  Well, I certainly do appreciate that.  I will be there in just a few minutes.”  Dean realized Mrs. Prescott thought he was Sam’s dad, his legal guardian.  Damn good thing I’m wearing this snazzy new suit, thought Dean.  I can be Sam’s dad.  This will be prep for the hunt.  Let’s see if she buys it.

Mrs. Prescott hung up the phone, turning to Sam.  “Your father will be here in a few minutes, dear.”  Sam’s eyes widened.  He’d given her Dean’s number, since dad was out of town.  _Shit._   Was dad back already?  He was going to catch hell.  At least with Dean, he’d get ribbed, maybe made to do more stupid training.  But dad, well, dad was going to lash out at him.  Probably after drinking.  Which would mean another argument that could end in physical violence or one of them storming off before they could get blows in.  Sometimes Sam wished it was just he and Dean.  Dean was more like a dad to him anyway.  

Sam’s brow furrowed deep in thought, his lower lip getting bitten raw.  Mrs. Prescott looked over at him and smiled.  Absolutely, he is covering for someone, she thought.  That weapon was not his and he’s going to take the fall for it.  Shaking her head, she went back to pulling records for review of test scores.

Neither Sam nor Mrs. Prescott heard the door to the office _whoosh_ open.  But the moment Dean Winchester stepped through, the air was suddenly charged with electricity.  

Sam glanced up, and his jaw dropped.   Not his dad, thank God.  But Dean, his normally smirky, gruff looking older brother was in a suit.  In a very tailored suit.  Navy, with crisp lines, a starched white dress shirt underneath, and a tie of little multi-colored blue boxes.  Shiny black dress shoes.  A pocket square.  Dean had a _pocket square_.   Sam just stared and stared, not speaking a word.  His mind was bombarded with images of Dean as a stockbroker, a lawyer, an architect, a banker.  A father figure, working a regular job, them living in a happy home and having normal happy lives.  A doofy grin started across his face at that thought, but was cut short when Dean glared at him.  He knew he needed to keep his mouth shut and let Dean run this.

“So squirt, what did you do to get yourself in trouble?  Thought you were the clean cut boy next door?”   Dean asked the questions firmly, with no wiggle room for Sam to use his patented smile on.  Before Sam could think to reply, wondering what con Dean was going to use to get him out of this, Mrs. Prescott stepped in.

“Oh, Mr. Winchester, it’s ok.  We’re sure it was a mistake.  Samuel is a very well behaved young man, we’re certain he is just covering for someone.  Maybe a bully or-“ and then Mrs. Prescott was also stopped short by Dean when he turned around and gave her his most disarming smile and approached her.  She giggled, blushed and looked down at her desk top.  Oh, Mr. Winchester was _young_.  Or maybe he just aged well.  He was an obvious professional and seemed to take a no-nonsense approach with his boy, just giving him a look that clearly said stay still and don’t say a word. 

“A mistake?  So the weapon found on him wasn’t his?” Dean looked around, spotting the specially blessed knife Bobby had given them, that had sigils and wards cut into the blade.  _Dammit Sam._   “Yes, that one there?” he asked, pointing towards it.  “Yes sir,” answered Mrs. Prescott.  We’re sure someone just wanted to get Sam in trouble.  Do you recognize it?”

Dean flashed a dark and angry look to Sam over his shoulder.  Sam was not even paying attention to the conversation.  He was lost in thought over that soft, dark fabric.  _On his brother_.  The way those pants hugged Dean’s ass , the way the fabric clung to his thighs and that jacket, form fitting enough to see the cut outline of his ribs and chest.  Sam wasn’t sure why he was thinking that suddenly, but the images of a powerful  Dean, in charge, with authority, was making his dick fatten quickly.   He’d always thought his brother was sexy, had never really given it much thought.  And now he couldn’t stop himself from wanting Dean to take charge and punish him.  _What the hell_ , thought Sam.   This was his brother he was thinking about!  Hormones, Sam thought  quickly, just hormones.  That’s _all._

“No, I sure don’t,” Dean replied smoothly.  “Thank you for calling me though.  I will have a talk with my boy here, maybe he can give more information that can get the right person responsible punished.” 

 _My boy_.  Dean just called him _my boy_.  Sam’s dick was dancing in his pants now, he couldn’t even begin to think why his body decided Dean was the dessert of the day.  Except, _damn_ , Dean looked hot.  He shouldn’t, but he did.  Sam stood to offer his apologies to Mrs. Prescott and distract from the bulge in his pants when Dean turned around and clapped a strong arm around his shoulders, turning them slightly back to face the flushed vice principal.     

“Thank you again, Mrs. Prescott.  I promise, no more trips from this one here for anything other than to help out.”  Dean gave another blinding smile, flashing his teeth.

“Katie Marie, please, call me Katie Marie,” Mrs. Prescott nearly whispered as they turned back to walk out.  She could appreciate a good looking man when she saw one, and wouldn’t she love to have him come back to chaperone on field trips.  Sighing, she went back to records reviewing.  Man, but Mr. Winchester looked good enough to eat.

Heading to the Impala, Dean laid into Sam.  “What the hell, Sammy?  You brought a knife – _that_ knife – to school?”  Dean was angry, fire in his eyes.  Sam wanted to be sorry, he knew he was in deep shit if dad ever found out.  But he couldn’t stop looking at Dean’s chest, seeing the muscles beneath that fitted white shirt when Dean took off the jacket to carefully lay it in the backseat.  What was _wrong_ with him?

“I had to pretend to be your father!  Do I fucking look like dad?  Do I even look old enough to be your dad?  If I couldn’t have charmed the pants off of Ms. Call-Me-Katie-Marie Prescott, you could be in custody with CPS or juvenile detention.“  Dean was going on and on and Sam, all he could do was blink up at him.  He’d really pissed Dean off this time.  And Dean’s reaction was kinda hot.  _What?!?_   Stop thinking that, he told himself.  Time to break it out.  The failsafe.  Dean caught the start of that look, that sad-sack hurt puppy look that Sam knew usually let him get away with murder. 

“No, Sam.  Not this time.  I’m not falling for it.  You’re damn lucky dad isn’t here to deal with you on this one.”  Dean got into the car and started up Baby, knowing he was going to be flooring it back to the stupid motel on the edge of town, music blaring as he tried to diffuse the anger he felt.  “I’m just gonna have to deal with you myself, “ Dean muttered.

Sam’s breathing got shorter and quicker.  His heart was racing and his dick was so very hard.  He’d heard what Dean had said, and it made his blood turn to molten heat in his veins.  What was Dean going to do?  And why was he getting so very turned on by the thought of it?  He slid into the passenger side seat, not wanting to look over at Dean.  Dean unbuttoned the cuffs of that stark white shirt and rolled them up revealing tanned skin.    White shirt, tanned skin, dark navy pants with creases still in the legs.  Sam swallowed hard, glancing out of the corner of his eye, as his fingers itched to touch.  Dean loosened the tie at his neck and popped a few buttons.  Sam almost whimpered. 

When he could find his voice again, it came out small and trembling.  “Wh-what are you going to do Dean?  Are you going to punish me?”  Those last two words came out in a slightly higher octave as Sam dared a quick glance at Dean, and unknowingly licked his lips.  Sam hadn’t ever been truly punished, not with a swat on his ass, or a time-out, or even a grounding.  No, in John Winchester’s manual, punishment meant training, which Sam detested.  But Sam now had visions of what Dean _could_ do to him, and Sam would let him.  Completely.  He was still slightly freaking out about this change in feelings toward his brother, but something in Sam yearned to be taken in hand.  And Dean was the only logical place to channel that emotion.  And Dean in that suit, it was turning Sam on more than he thought was rational. 

Dean caught the question, and the hasty glance Sam shot him.  Something was off about his little brother.  Had been ever since Dean walked into that office.  Sam usually couldn’t shut up and would normally be explaining why he had taken the knife and trying to cajole Dean out of his grumpy mood.  But not now.  His Sammy looked…well, if Dean didn’t know better, Sam looked like he was dazed.  And a little scared.  Of Dean?  That can’t be right.  Dean gave his brother a good once over to make sure he didn’t miss anything.  Everything checked out upon visual inspection, except – wait, Sam was hard.  VERY hard.  That telltale bulge in his pants was rock solid. 

Something in Dean clicked when he saw Sam lick his lips.  The question, the looks, the bulge….a plan formed without much thought.  Dean was gonna tease Sam.  He just had no idea he was going to enjoy it so _very_ much.

“Yeah Sammy.  I’m gonna have to punish you.  You totally deserve it.  And since dad’s not here, I’m gonna be dad in his place.  You’re going to respect me when we’re done, you understand me?”   Dean was talking in a very low, growling tone, and Sam’s eyes widened, his mouth parting slightly as it made a perfect “O” shape.   Dean watched Sam’s reaction, grinned to himself.  Yep, Sam was going to be begging Dean for mercy when they were done.  Maybe he would have Sam run sprints.  Sam hated sprints, and Dean would just make him do it on repeat until he almost dropped, hard the whole time.  Then make him spar with Dean, and Dean was sure one brush against his groin would set Sam off.  Teach the little brat right.

Sam couldn’t believe his ears.  Dean was gonna play dad?  Dean was going to punish him the way a real dad would punish his son.  Oh dear Lord.  Sam was caught between exhilarating fear and want warring within him.  He couldn’t understand what it was that was driving him to want to break for Dean.  It wasn’t anything he’d felt before.  It was certainly past the typical rush of thirteen year old horniness.  That certainly couldn’t be how a normal son would feel for a father.

“Sam, do you understand me?” Dean firmly asked again, demanding a response from his seemingly petrified little brother.

Before he could think through his feelings, Sam looked over at Dean again, locked eyes with him and softly spoke, “Yes sir, daddy.  I understand. ”  Then he clasped his hands in his lap and looked down. 

 _Daddy?  What the hell?_   Dean had a flash of confusion and then a bolt of clarity.  _Holy shit_.  Dean felt a rush of controlling power over his little brother that he knew he shouldn’t fin exciting in any way.  And yet…he looked again at Sam and noticed a complete change in demeanor.  Sam was silent, eyes downcast, shoulders slumped.  He looked completely cowed.  And then Dean thought _, no, he looks submissive_.  And that scared the crap out of Dean so much that he almost ran them off the road. 

Silence ensued the rest of the ride home, about fifteen minutes.  Sam, playing in his mind how much he wanted Dean to correct him, in whatever form that may take, not really understanding why, but totally on board thinking of Dean being his daddy.  He would do whatever Dean said, whatever he wanted.  He felt no call to argue with him as he did with John. 

Dean concentrated on the road, trying not to get them into an accident.  When the hell had he started picturing Sam as being _fucking submissive_?  And to _him_?  And why was he enjoying the feeling pooling low in his belly about that?  He had only meant to tease Sam about being a raging emo-whiny teenager.  He thought maybe Katie Marie had turned Sam on…older woman and all that, adoring Sam as she did.  But Sam had called him daddy.  Did he even get what that kind of talk did to someone Dean’s age that had sex on the brain 24/7?  Combined with the now complete picture of Sam waiting to be punished.  _Holy Hell_.  Dean was so very screwed.     

Once they reached the motel, Dean reached over the back of the seat and pulled his jacket back out, then put it back on.  It was chilly out, and he was going over to the connected diner to place a to-go order for dinner for them both, to distract him from the Sam-Sam-Sam drum his heart was now doing.  When he turned to tell Sam to go ahead inside, he caught Sam in that daze again.  Sam was still sitting in the Impala, looking over at Dean through the window, completely lost. 

“What is it Sam?” Dean barely could keep his voice restrained.  Dean knew looks of lust, of want, of desire – he’d seen them in plenty of girls throughout high school in the many towns they had stayed in.  He’d never expected to see those directed at him from his little brother’s face.

Sam could only look helplessly at Dean, waiting for an order.   Yes, waiting for an _order_.  From his _daddy_.  What was _wrong_ with him?  And yet he couldn’t move.

Dean walked around to the side of the car, opened the door and knelt down by Sam.  “Sammy, what’s wrong?”  Dean searched Sam’s face for guidance, for something.  Because he was starting to feel like Sam wanted more than he should get from his brother, more than Dean should even be allowed to think.

Sam remained silent, eyes locked on Dean’s face.

“Sam, tell me, right now.”

 _An order_ , thought Sam.  “I-I don’t know what you want me to do.  Sir.  Daddy.”

Dean was completely floored.  This was more than Sam expecting a punishment for taking that knife, getting caught, and then Dean having to go back and steal it without him getting caught – before their father returned.  This was more than Sam learning a lesson in respect and Dean being the big brother and being merciless about it.  This was heated, this was so very wrong and yet, and yet Dean could not stop the sparking of nerves firing off and all the puzzle pieces coming to form in his head.  Sam wanted a daddy.  Sam wanted to be punished.  Sam wanted that from Dean.  Sam was hanging on Dean’s every spoken word.  Sam was hard.   

“Sam, I want you to tell me what you want.”  Dean needed to be sure he was not misreading this situation entirely. 

Huffing slightly, taking a big gulp of air, Sam began now that he could speak.  “I want to touch you – can I touch your jacket?”  His fingers reached out of their own accord, heading for it.  He stopped suddenly, waiting.  Dean understood immediately and brought his left hand up to guide Sam’s fingers to the lapel.  Sam breathed a delicate, “Ohhhh,” as he closed his eyes, running up and down the fabric, fingers twitching.  Dean was mesmerized.  It was like Sam wouldn’t move without his say so. 

“Sam, what else do you want?”  Dean waited with baited breath.  He wasn’t sure what was happening between him and Sam, but it was a lit match now.

“I want you to punish me, daddy.  I was a bad boy, a naughty boy, and I need to be held accountable for getting in trouble and losing that knife.  Will you do it, daddy?  Anything you want, Sir, anything you want, “ Sam murmured.

 _Fuck me_.  Dean swooped a shocked Sam into his arms, shut the Impala door, and got them inside the motel room.  He placed Sam on the bed farthest from the door, and went into the bathroom.

Dean stared at his reflection a long time.  He tried to make sense of his feelings, of what Sam had said.  Could he do this?  He loved Sammy, he protected and took care of Sammy.  There would never come a time when Sammy wouldn’t be his to look after.  This though.  This was completely new territory for them both.  And Dean wanted it.  God help him, he did.  He wanted to break Sam down and have him submit.  He wanted to take what Sam was willing to freely give.  There was no logical reasoning behind it.  It just was.  It wasn’t even about sex.  He knew Sam was hard, but that didn’t even come into play.  Dean was hard now himself.  It was all about control and power. 

Dean splashed his face with cold water, then went back into the main room.  When Dean thought the situation couldn’t get any more tantalizing with opportunity, it flipped again.  Sam was completely naked on the bed.  His clothes were neatly folded up and placed on his duffel.  One of Dean’s black leather belts was laid out on the bed next to him.  And Sam had his legs pulled up to his chest, his hair brushing the tops of his knees.

“Sam, what is this?” questioned Dean.

“Oh, I’m sorry daddy.  I just thought you would want me to be ready.  And that you might want to spank me.”  Sam lifted his head up just a fraction, so Dean could see those hazel orbs.  Upon making eye contact, he quickly dropped them again.

“Is that what you want Sammy?  Look at me and tell me what you want.  Everything you want.  Daddy doesn’t want to guess and hurt you, so you need to be truthful and tell me.  Don’t be afraid, I’m not angry with you.”  Dean chuckled then.  “Well I am angry about the knife incident, but we’ll get to that with the punishment.”  Approaching the bed, Dean sat down next to Sam and moved the belt out of the way. 

Sam stared wide-eyed at Dean.  This was his moment.  He could tell Dean everything.  Everything on his mind since Dean had walked into that office this afternoon. 

“Sam, come on.  Tell me.  My boy always does what he’s told,” Dean gently said, tipping Sam’s face so he couldn’t look down again. 

 _My boy_.  Something inside Sam broke free then, and he would only have stopped if Dean had said to.

“Daddy, I want you to spank me.  I want you to take me over your knee and spank me until I cry, until I come, all over your new suit.  I’m sorry daddy, I know it’s new and expensive but you look so very beautiful in it and I want to feel it up against my skin.  I want you to take charge of me and be my daddy, I’m your boy, and I’ll do anything you ask or tell me to do.  Sir, I promise I’ll be good to you, for you, only for you.  Can I please touch your suit daddy?  Can I please feel it along my dick?  I’m sorry about the knife, I was wrong to do it.  I wanted to show it to a friend.  Spank me and make me yours, I want to be yours.  Please call me yours, daddy.”  When Sam was done he realized he was crying.  He was still looking into Dean’s eyes and what he expected to find was not there.  No anger or shame or disgust.  Just pure love.  He hiccupped and without permission, threw his arms around Dean and practically crawled into his lap.

Seventeen year old Dean looked down at this thirteen year old brother, rocking against him, softly coming down from his tearful outburst.  He could only feel love in his heart.  Sam was indeed his boy.  And if his boy needed these things, then he would get them.  Dean realized quickly that this meant their relationship was going to change in this moment forever.  And that he needed to read up a lot more on the whole Dominant/submissive lifestyle.  He’d only heard about it and toyed at the edges of it in play with previous partners.  Sam seemed a natural submissive.  Which was just fine with Dean. 

Dean pulled Sam away from his chest.  His little brother had been biting at the button of Dean’s shirt in worry, while his fingers had been stroking along Dean’s back and the smoothness of that dark navy material. 

“Sam, you are my boy.  You will always be my boy.  Thank you for being honest with me.  You know I will always want you to be honest and listen to me going forward.  To be clear, I’m your daddy.  I’m going to punish you for the knife incident, and you taking a weapon without consent will never happen again, understood?”  Sam nodded affirmatively at Dean.  “When dad is around, we are just brothers.  You are not under my orders when he is around, understood?”  Sam nodded again.  “Just be aware, if you think you can get back at me during those times, later when we are alone, you will be punished.”  Sam went to nod again, stopped and then smiled up at Dean.  “Promise, daddy?” 

Dean just manhandled Sam around over his knees, with his sweet curved ass sticking up in the air.  “Deep breath, Sammy.  Hold still and don’t cry out, my boy.”  And then Dean smacked Sam’s ass.  Stroke after stroke, right cheek, then left.  He gave only 5 strokes to each side, as his bottom flushed a dark pink and then turned to a glowing cherry red.  Sam bit his lip the entire time, not making a peep, but grunting internally and trying not to squirm away.  The pain felt cleansing, he felt washed in love from Dean.  His dick rubbed along the soft smooth lines of fabric, pain alongside pleasure as the friction was not nearly enough.  When Dean stopped, Sam was disappointed.  He hadn’t come yet.  Then Dean bent his head down to Sam’s ear and whispered, “Don’t ever assume which method of punishment I will want to use.  I will never use a belt on you when my hand is all that is needed and all that should touch your ass.  You may come now. ” And on the word “now”, Sam felt a smack across both cheeks and spurted, thick and creamy and all over the tailored pants he had been fantasizing about all afternoon.  Sam felt drowsy and sated and never happier in his life.  He also felt something along his side, a wetness seeping through to his skin, and realized Dean had come in his pants.  _Dean had come in his brand new pants_.  Sam looked up at Dean, horrified he would get in trouble for that too.  Dean just chuckled again, and told him to get ready for bed.  Sam dutifully went to the bathroom to clean up, and Dean got undressed to clean up himself, chucking his pants over the desk chair.  Trying to explain _that_ to the tailor was going to be a helluva lot of fun.

 


End file.
